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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26325685">matter of fact</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rincewitch/pseuds/rincewitch'>rincewitch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Warrior of Moonlight [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5.3 spoilers, F/F, a much-needed quiet moment for these poor cats to process everything they've been through, past injuries and trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:33:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,148</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26325685</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rincewitch/pseuds/rincewitch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>ffxiv write 2020 day 5: matter of fact</p><p>“Does it feel weird?” Rinh asks.</p><p>“No,” Y’shtola says, matter-of-factly, “Aside from the discontinuity of being hale and hearty when I departed the First, and suffering the effects of a long period of inactivity— atrophying of muscles, stiffness of limbs, and so on-- the moment I opened my eyes again in Dawn’s Respite. Trivial matters when compared to, say, being bodily reconstituted from the Lifestream itself not once but twice.”</p><p>“You’ve really ought to stop doing that, by the way.”</p><p>“Well,” said Y’shtola, “I was thinking of using Flow to get around all the time to save money on aetheryte fees, but I shall refrain for the time being.”</p><p>Rinh laughs, bright and lilting. Every time she could get Rinh to laugh felt like a gift to Y’shtola; the Warrior of Darkness carried the hopes and fears of two worlds on her back, and Y’shtola would ease that burden whenever she could.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Y'shtola Rhul/Warrior of Light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Warrior of Moonlight [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905535</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>#FFxivWrite2020 Final Fantasy 30 Day Writing Challenge, Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched Bookclub FFXIV-Writes 2020 Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>matter of fact</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It’s odd,” Y’shtola says, “I suppose that from my perspective, I’ve been away from this body for three entire years, even if <em> it </em> only laid idle on the Source for a matter of months.”</p><p>It’s a crisp, cool night in La Noscea. Y’shtola and the Warrior of Light (although, Y’shtola thinks, the title <em> Warrior of Darkness </em> suits Rinh better; the Keepers of the Moon knew that light did not equate to goodness long before the First turned the Scions’ notions of astral and umbral on their head) are in one of the more secluded hot springs at Warmwine Sanitarium. Near enough to the main springs to still hear the murmur of distant conversation amongst the other guests and patients, proof positive that in spite of everything, life continued and they weren’t alone; far enough to enjoy a modicum of privacy. Y’shtola might have far fewer scars than her lover (and, indeed, fewer than she’d had mere weeks ago; the burns she’d gotten during the fall of Fort Gohn were left behind on the First with the rest of her soul’s borrowed flesh), but she didn’t like the idea of anyone but her closest intimates seeing the ones she did have. Her near-death at the hands of Zenos was not a story she told lightly, and she would not have it shared with gawping onlookers by the mark mark left by the Swell when the prince ran her through with it.</p><p>“Does it feel weird?” Rinh asks.</p><p>“No,” Y’shtola says, matter-of-factly, “Aside from the discontinuity of being hale and hearty when I departed the First, and suffering the effects of a long period of inactivity— atrophying of muscles, stiffness of limbs, and so on-- the moment I opened my eyes again in Dawn’s Respite. Trivial matters when compared to, say, being bodily reconstituted from the Lifestream itself not once but <em> twice.” </em></p><p>“You’ve really ought to stop doing that, by the way.”</p><p>“Well,” said Y’shtola, “I <em> was </em> thinking of using Flow to get around all the time to save money on aetheryte fees, but I shall refrain for the time being.”</p><p>Rinh laughs, bright and lilting. Every time she could get Rinh to laugh felt like a gift to Y’shtola; the Warrior of Darkness carried the hopes and fears of two worlds on her back, and Y’shtola would ease that burden whenever she could.</p><p>That was why Y’shtola insisted that Rinh come with her to Warmwine for her own sake, too, not just to accompany Y’shtola as she saw to the care of her neglected body, which she’d volunteered to do the moment Y'shtola had proposed this getaway.</p><p>Physically, Rinh’s fine— or, well, as fine as one in her line of work can be, anyway; she seems to always have a few odd scrapes or bruises, but nothing compared to the ordeal she went through on the First, when the Light was devouring her, body and soul. She’d nearly become a sin eater— no, thats not quite right. To Y’shtola’s eyes, she <em> had </em> become a Sin Eater in every respect save being robbed of reason. And not just aetherically— she’d had the <em> aether </em>of an eater from the moment she’d stepped into Rak’tika. But from the time they’d borne Rinh’s body down from Mt. Gulg, she had looked ghastly; alabaster skin with veins of gold, nascent wings held tightly against herself, head crowned by a radiant halo.</p><p>She’d looked much the same as she always did to herself, though, and to the others— a bit pale, slightly cool to the touch, but still recognizably a living, breathing miqo’te woman. Y’shtola kept what she saw to herself; her comrades were already beside themselves with worry— being told how far gone their friend <em> really </em>was would have only invited a self-defeating sense of despair, worsening whatever slim chance of survival Rinh still had.</p><p>The last physical signs of this trauma had faded months ago; once the Light had been truly banished, nearly every sign of its corruption was swept away.</p><p>But that, of course, was only half of recovery.</p><p>“In any case,” Y’shtola considered, “It’s no stranger than it is to go to bed healthy and wake up feeling ill. I feel… I feel quite <em> present </em>in my body in a way I haven’t for quite some time. Some degree of weakness is much preferable to the feeling of the connection between my soul on the First and my body on the Source rapidly fraying.”</p><p>Rinh leans back, letting herself sink deeper into the spring’s warm waters. She’s entirely submerged for a moment or two before rising again, wet hair plastered to the sides of her head, water dripping down her body and its myriad scars. “How’s it odd, then?”</p><p>“Hmm,” Y’shtola says, considering this, “Philosophically, I suppose. Ontologically. The aspects which constitute an individual are body, soul, and memory. What does it mean when the former is separated from the latter? Did my objective self truly exist on the First, or just some shadow thereof? I certainly <em> felt </em> like myself in a way I didn’t when I was in the Lifestream, but in both cases i was-- in essence-- a mind and soul without physical form.” She shrugged. “Not terribly important, in the great scheme of things, but the notion still vexes me.”</p><p>Rinh’s silent, but she’s clearly considering Y’shtola’s words, instead of just brushing them off as meaningless abstractions. “It’s hard to say,” she says, finally, clearly thinking aloud, “Since, from my perspective, the First really was just a place I went. A strange place, reached by stranger means, but not really <em> categorically </em> different from hopping from an aetheryte in Eorzea to one I’ve attuned to in Doma or Kugane or wherever. But...” She closes her eyes, sinking back into the spring until only her head and shoulders are above the water. “I think that all of you were still <em> you. </em> The Ardbert <em> I </em> knew <em> was </em> Ardbert, even if his body was buried in Kholusia somewhere until Elidibus decided to take it for a walk, you know? The family ghosts are still the people we knew, even if now they’re just whispers in the Lifestream.”</p><p>“A different formulation of the self than my own,” says Y’shtola, “But a compelling one all the same.”</p><p>“I think…” Rinh says, “I think that if you <em> weren’t </em> you, you’d be like those shades that walked the streets of Amaurot, like? Like how the Hytholodaeus I met there wasn’t really the Hythlodaeus who actually lived back then, he was just… a Hythlodaeus-shaped bit of Emet-Selch’s intention and will. A record of someone he… of someone <em> we </em> knew, even as the sundered pieces of his soul are probably spread all across the shards.”</p><p>Y’shtola makes a small smile. “Well, that’s a relief,” she says, laughing softly into her hand, “I don’t think black robes and a white mask would be a very flattering look for me.”</p>
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